The Dean Test
by BlackIceWitch
Summary: Short story pre-series. 1999. Sam is tired of his girlfriends falling for his brother and decides to short-circuit the process by testing their reactions before he gets involved. No slash, no spoilers. Reviews, comments, feedback always very much appreciated.


_**May 1999. Santa Theresa, California.**_

Sam looked around the classroom. Dad had said they'd be here for at least two months. The school was already covered in banners and flyers and posters reminding the students about the Junior Prom, being held at the end of the month. He licked his lips nervously, looking around at the girls in the classroom.

They were all pretty, he thought. Maybe that was California, maybe it was the nature of the town, but everywhere he looked, he saw smooth golden skin, artfully applied makeup, long tan legs and slim bodies, wrapped in the barest minimum the school demanded from student decorum. Every shade of blonde. Even the brunettes had golden streaks.

His brother would be in paradise, he thought. And that was a part of the problem. He had to be careful this time, pushing away the memories of other schools, other dances, other girls. He had to make sure he got it absolutely right.

* * *

><p>Dean stretched out along the couch that sat on the front porch, eyes closed against the warm sunshine, enjoying the very soft breeze that carried the scent of salt over him. The bottle that dangled from his fingers was ice-cold, the car had purred sweetly after his day's labours on her engine … in short, all was good with the world.<p>

The shadow that dropped over his face caught him just as he was drifting into sleep. He opened his eyes, seeing his brother's tall frame silhouetted against the bright light, and rubbed his hand over his face, fingers closing firmly around the bottle as he sat up.

"Hey."

"Hey." Sam moved slightly and Dean squinted as the light hit him in the face.

"Sienna, this is my brother, Dean."

Sam watched his brother lift his hand to shade his eyes, his gaze moving slowly up the girl in front of him, his mouth opening a little as he took in the short, short shorts, bare, tanned torso, tight cropped top. It stretched into a one-sided smile as that slow perusal reached her face, framed by golden blonde hair, smiling into her large blue eyes and lingering, just a little too long, on her glistening lips.

"Hey," Dean's already deep voice dropped a couple of notes as he injected warmth and admiration into it.

Sam watched him get to his feet, setting the bottle on the floor as he rose, his attention firmly fixed on the girl in front of him. He saw the characteristic tilt of Dean's head, bent as he met Sienna's eyes, a lazy smile reinforcing the effect on the girl of his brother's voice. He shifted his gaze to her, seeing her hand rise unconsciously to her chest, the fingers lying against the edge of the low-cut neck of her top, eyelashes fluttering slightly as she looked down, then up again, lips parting automatically in a smile that was all too clearly an invitation.

Strike Sienna, he thought without a shred of surprise. He turned away, heading into the house.

* * *

><p>Lying in bed hours later, he thought about his brother's technique. He'd watched it often enough for the whole thing to be a series of predictable moves, the one building on the next until invariably, the girl could hardly remember her own name and had long since forgotten who she'd arrived with. He wasn't sure that Dean did it deliberately, as in a deliberate attempt to steal every girl Sam had ever brought home, or had inadvertently allowed to meet him. It didn't seem deliberate, more like an instinctive reaction to the opposite sex, a hunting reaction something like a cat being unable to prevent itself from stalking a mouse.<p>

In which case, he decided, there was no point in getting pissed with his brother. He simply had to find a way to circumvent the entire situation. He had no trouble getting dates – the girls weren't exactly lined up but he hadn't met any who'd turned him down. The problem was when they met his brother, there was something in the combination of Dean's features, and colouring, his voice and whatever it was that he projected out to them, that made them forget that Sam was standing next to them. Possibly even that he was alive.

* * *

><p>"Sam, my man, you seen the new girl?" Ray sidled up alongside his locker, peering through the gap between the locker and Sam, down the corridor. "She is … smokin', man! A goddess … for whom I would happily die if she did but let me kiss her once."<p>

His mouth curving up and dimples deepening, Sam shook his head. "Ray, you gotta give the drama department a miss."

Ray chuckled, edging closer and pushing his elbow into Sam's ribs. "Take a look for yourself."

Glancing down the corridor, Sam followed Ray's line of sight. He saw a group of girls standing a few yards away, near the doors to the auditorium. They were crowded around someone, and it took a minute of watching before one moved aside enough to show him the new girl, smiling and talking to the girls around her, her three-quarter profile revealing enough to recognise a TKO.

He felt his breath leave his lungs in a fast exhale.

Honey blonde hair, a little lighter than his, fell to the middle of her back in soft waves. She turned completely and started walking toward him, a soft leather backpack held in one hand as she listened to the girls walking beside her. Her legs were long, unbelievably long, slender and shapely, the white denim jeans stretched smoothly over them delineating their tone and curves with each stride.

The pale green shirt she wore was sleeveless and demurely buttoned, but her breasts pushed out against it, and he looked away from those full curves in a hurry, feeling a reaction he did _not_ want right now rising. Her face was heart-shaped, smooth and blemish-free, the wide smile she threw to the girl beside her showing off full lips and brilliantly white teeth, framed by dimples that deepened as the smile faded away. He pivoted in place as she approached, sea-blue eyes meeting his for a second, thick dark lashes fluttering down over them as she looked away. Along with most of the other people in the corridor, he kept turning, his gaze following her and the group of girls surrounding her until they turned the corner at the end of the corridor and disappeared.

"What'd I tell you?" Ray leaned back against the bank of lockers, his hands clasped over his heart, eyes rolling back.

Sam sucked in a deep breath and glanced at him, grinning reluctantly. "Yeah, she's beautiful. But can she read?"

Snorting in disbelief, Ray straightened up, banging against the locker behind him. "Who cares? I do not want her for her mind."

The bell rang and they walked up the corridor to class.

* * *

><p>"Dean, you got that lug wrench?" John Winchester crouched beside the rear tyre of the truck, looking critically at the sidewall. The wrench appeared in his peripheral vision and he took it, sliding the end onto the wheelnut.<p>

Leaning against the glossy black door, Dean saw Sam walking up from the house toward them; a girl, picking her way fastidiously between the clumps of weeds that filled the yard, beside him. He straightened up a little, his interest piqued by the way the short skirt was lifting in the light breeze from the ocean, giving him tantalising flashes of smooth, tan leg to the hips, and pale blue underwear.

He tore his gaze from the show as they got closer, his smile widening in approval as he took in the singlet that showed a couple of inches of cleavage, and a pretty face with wide brown eyes and pouting lips above that.

"Hey, this is Audrey." Sam stopped a few feet from the truck, and waited. "Audrey, this is my brother, Dean, and my Dad."

Dean walked straight to her, and Sam mentally checked off the steps as his brother went into his routine. John looked up and hid a smile as he watched the girl's consciousness of anyone else disappear under the onslaught of his eldest son's focussed attention.

"Nice to meet you," he muttered, glancing at Sam. He was slightly surprised to see Sam's expression as the boy watched them. Sam's gaze was on them, interested but without the slightest sign that he was feeling irritated or annoyed at his brother's fast tracking moves on the girl he'd brought with him. John's gaze sharpened on his youngest son, wondering what the hell was going on.

Sam noted Audrey's reaction and turned away. Strike Audrey, he thought, a sneaking relief at the decision filling him. She was pretty but almost entirely without the ability to hold a conversation that didn't include shopping, shoes and her father's credit card. He suspected Dean wouldn't even discover the lack of conversation, and wouldn't care even if he did.

* * *

><p>"Leigh? Sam? Could you wait for a few minutes, please." Mrs Osborne looked up at the new students as the rest of the class bolted for the door, a bottleneck forming instantly as they pushed and shoved their way through. When the chaos and noise had dissipated, she gestured to them to come to her desk.<p>

Sam couldn't look at Leigh at all. He'd been sitting behind her the last hour, and a small breeze from an open window had carried the light scent she wore straight to him, making concentration utterly impossible. He gathered his books, surreptitiously wiping at the film of sweat on his face, and walked slowly behind her, keeping his gaze fixed on Mrs Osborne's matronly face. Better than a cold shower, he thought, feeling the tensions in his body easing away slowly.

"Normally, I'd be seating you two with students who've been here longer so you can get caught up with what we're doing, but to be frank with you, you're the brightest students I have this year, and I don't think catching up is going to be a problem." She looked from one to the other. "So, I'm seating you together. Our school has a reciprocal arrangement with UCLA to foster extra learning for our brighter students, and you'll both be allocated additional work to prepare you for the next two years."

"Great." Leigh nodded enthusiastically. Sam flicked a fast sideways glance at her and back to Mrs Osborne.

_Sitting _next_ to her? Every class?_

Mrs Osborne frowned as she saw his expression. "Sam, you don't have to do the additional work if you'd rather not. It's a privilege, not a punishment."

He felt his ears burning as he realised that both Leigh and Mrs Osborne were staring at him.

"N-no, no, it's great. Really. I really want to do it," he said hurriedly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Leigh smile and his gaze dropped to the floor. "Great opportunity," he added in a barely audible mumble.

"Good. Then that's settled. I'll see you tomorrow." Mrs Osborne turned back to her desk and Sam followed Leigh out of the classroom.

He almost ran into her when she stopped abruptly in the corridor. She took a step back, and he felt heat rushing up his neck and into his face as he tried to look anywhere but directly at her.

"You sure you want to do the extra work?" she asked him, lifting the books in her arms over her chest. He risked a look at her.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure," he said, swallowing as his eyes met hers. "I – uh – my – um –"

The disconnected words fell out, his attempt at keeping the conversation going making his ears burn hotter, but she was turning away already.

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

Great, he thought, watching her walk down the hall. Real smooth. His pulse was returning to a more normal rate.

"Did I just see you talking to Leigh Carlton?"

Sam looked around and saw Ray, standing a few feet away, staring at him in awe.

"Yeah." Sam picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, walking quickly to the other boy. "We've been assigned extra work, for college prep. So I'll be sitting next to her from now on."

"Dude! No!"

Sam looked away, grinning a little. "Dude, yeah."

* * *

><p>Sam looked at Kirsten Connor, his gaze unconsciously critical. The petite blonde didn't come close to Leigh, he decided, despite the fact she could've starred in a travel advertisement for California. Tousled and streaked hair fell to the waistband of her low-riding faded denim jeans. Bright blue eyes were carefully lined to make them look bigger. Her smile was dazzling, a result of years of very expensive orthodonture work, he suspected.<p>

He was standing close to the entrance to the school, with Kirsten and two of her friends, waiting for Dean to show up. Despite the fact that it was Leigh he was thinking of most of the time, he couldn't imagine himself asking her out, and that left the rest of the girls in his year that still as to pass his test.

"Sammy, you want a ride?"

The black car pulled over beside the school gates, the engine rumbling, his brother leaning out the window. Sam smiled to himself. Right on time.

"Who's that?" Kirsten looked from Sam to the man in the car.

"My brother. You want a ride home?" He resettled his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the car.

"Love one." Kirsten caught up to him in a couple of strides, tossing back her hair, and waving over her shoulder to her friends.

Sam walked around to the passenger door, holding it open for her, then got in the back. Dean glanced at him, brows drawing together.

"Dean, this is Kirsten. Kirsten, my brother, Dean." Sam shifted his bag to the seat beside him, hiding a faint grin at how perfunctory his introductions were becoming. He was beginning to think that all the girls would fail the test. He shrugged inwardly at the thought. Better to know that now, when it wasn't so important, than on the night.

"We're dropping Kirsten at her place," he added, ignoring his older brother's quizzical look.

"Sure." Dean put the car in gear and pulled out, flicking a glance at the girl beside him. "Where do you live?"

"Maple Avenue." She smiled at him, then noticed the blank look he gave her. "Uh, next two lefts, then cross the railway and a right."

Behind them, Sam's brow wrinkled up at his brother's no-nonsense question. Dean wasn't playing ball for some reason. He watched him driving, eyes firmly glued to the road, paying no attention whatsoever to the efforts Kirsten was making to get his attention. Sam sighed. Even without encouragement from him, Kirsten's efforts went far beyond courtesy and he called it.

_Strike Kirsten_.

Following her breathless instructions, the Impala pulled up in front of a single story bungalow, and Kirsten got out reluctantly, waving as she walked up the path. Dean waited for Sam to move to the front and pulled out, with not even a backward look.

"What's going on, Sam?"

"What d'you mean?" Sam looked at the scenery going past.

"I mean, I can get my own dates, I don't need you parading the girls from your school past me every five minutes. What gives?"

Sam snorted. "Obviously you didn't notice, but I asked those girls out, I wasn't getting you dates, Dean, they were there with me."

He saw his brother's brows rise. "Then why'd you leave them alone with me?"

"I didn't. They did what they wanted to do. You did what you wanted to do. And I did what I wanted to do."

"Huh." Dean flicked a glance at him, a flash of guilt there and gone. "Sorry, dude. I wasn't trying to –"

"Yeah, I know." Sam shook his head. Dean probably hadn't even noticed his effect on the girls. "No big."

"So we good?"

"Yeah, we're good." He turned around, leaning against the corner of the seat and door and looking curiously at his brother. "Why didn't you hit on Kirsten?"

His brother shrugged. "Got a date tonight with Audrey."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned away.

* * *

><p>"Have you got Weinstern's 'Collective Essays on the Declination of Society'?"<p>

Sam looked up, turning to find Leigh inches away from him, leaning over to look at the titles of the pile of books beside his left elbow. He felt a strand of her hair brush against his arm and swallowed, noticing that from this distance, her eyes were a green-blue, like the sea off the point on a sunny day.

"Uh …" Turning away, he looked at the stack and found the title she wanted, extracting the volume and passing it to her. He took a deep breath, a mistake, as her scent filled his nostrils, blanking out his thoughts.

"Thanks." She settled back into her chair, and opened the book, finding the chapter she needed and starting to write again.

Staring fixedly at the wall in front of him, Sam could feel his heart thumping uncomfortably at the base of his throat, could feel perspiration coating his palms and a sudden and inexplicable difficulty in getting air in and out of his lungs. She smelled like a meadow by the sea, he thought dazedly, sun-warmed summer grasses with a hint of the tang of the ocean. _God. _He struggled to push those images out of his head._ Get your act together, all this extra credit will be wasted if you stuff it up._

He couldn't help it, he acknowledged a few moments later, sneaking a discreet look at her from the corner of his eye. He thought about her a lot, no matter how hard he tried not to. Every time he had a few seconds to spare, it seemed, he thought about her. Her skin and her hair; the way they'd argued about Dostoyevsky's intentions in _Crime and Punishment_, passionate but not personal; about the way she looked at him, when they were discussing something, her attention fully on him, serious and focussed. He couldn't look at her face at those times because it was too easy to lose track of what he was trying to say.

The more he got to know her, the more beautiful she seemed to him, and the more ordinary the rest of the girls in the school became. Ray was beside himself with envy that he could sit next to her all day, their heads bent together as they figured out this task or that assignment, and he couldn't tell his friend that it was all business, that not once had she shown the slightest interest in him on any other level.

He sighed and looked back down at his notes. He was dreaming. She was, in the vernacular of his brother, so far out of his league it couldn't be anything but a dream. He stared at the page and forced himself to concentrate on the text. Was Ophelia's death a suicide? Or at the very least such lack of care that fate could take its course and she allowed herself to drown?

How the hell was he supposed to know? He didn't have much experience with the torment of love, let alone the feelings that the girl felt on learning that the man she loved had killed her father. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Leigh?" Her name was out of his mouth before he realised he was going to ask her about it.

"Yeah?" She turned to look at him, one brow raised slightly.

"What do you think Ophelia was feeling, just before she drowned?" He looked back at the text, missing the softening in her eyes, the deep indrawn breath.

"I don't know, not really." She looked across at his notes. "She was obviously in love with Hamlet, but he'd just killed her father. How do you reconcile that? Forget about the father and marry his killer as if it didn't happen? Or give up on love you feel and pretend that you'll find someone else?" Smiling a little wryly, she shook her head. "I haven't had enough experience of love to even guess if it would be possible to do that."

That made two of them, Sam thought, his heart jumping in his chest when she said the word. Could she see what he was feeling?

"So, uh … you think she killed herself? To avoid having to make a decision?"

Leigh shook her head again. "No. I think it was an accident that she drowned. But I think that she didn't try to save herself. I suppose the question would be was she so deranged by her emotions that she didn't recognise she was drowning, or did she, at the end, come to her senses and realise that it was a way out of the choices she faced."

He nodded slowly, keeping his gaze on the book. That _was_ the question.

"Sam?" Leigh's voice was low, just above a whisper and he looked up, another thump in his chest as he saw her expression.

"Y-yeah?" The word came out high at the end and he cleared his throat self-consciously.

"I really like that you think about this, try and work it out from the emotional perspective," she said, smiling warmly at him.

Sam opened his mouth to say something to her when the bell rang.

"See you tomorrow." She gathered her notes and books and packed them into her bag, lifting a hand as she walked across the room, disappearing into the melee of students before he could make his voice work well enough to call her back.

He sat there for a few moments, letting what she'd said sink in. It wasn't that she'd said she liked him, after all. Just liked that he was trying to get the answers. From an _emotional_ perspective. But it had _felt_ as if she'd said that. He picked up his books and shoved them into his bag, wandering out of the classroom, his heart a little lighter, a very small smile curving his lips.

* * *

><p>"You heard about the girls' competition, didn't you?" Ray leaned back against the row of lockers, his gaze flicking this way and that along the corridor as Sam sorted through the books in his bag, putting some into the locker, pulling others out.<p>

"No, what competition?"

"They're trying to get your brother to take one of them to the prom," Ray said, sotto voce.

Sam felt his eyebrows shoot up. "You're kidding me?"

"Nope. Heard from a very reliable source." Ray grinned at him.

"Well, good luck to them on that." Sam closed the locker and shut the padlock. "He didn't make it all the way through his own."

Ray shrugged. "How are you doing on that anyway? Got a date yet?"

"No." Sam looked away. He hadn't even asked any of them out to their place for awhile, losing interest in his test. He couldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he had a tiny hope, locked away in his heart, about asking Leigh. Not that she'd say yes, of course. "What about you?"

"Nah, not yet. I'll give it a bit longer."

"Don't wait too long."

"Are you kidding? If and when your brother finally chooses one of them, there are going to be at least five available, distraught and in a desperate, dateless state. I'll be the first in line offering my consolations."

Sam laughed. It was a plan.

* * *

><p>"We should probably work on the history assignment together," Leigh said, turning in her chair to look at Sam.<p>

"Uh … sure." Was the afternoon getting hotter, Sam wondered? He felt like the temperature in the classroom had gone up about thirty degrees. "Um … what did you have in mind?"

She looked down at her book, fingers riffling the edges of the pages, and he snuck a quick look at her profile. Was there a tint of pink over her cheeks?

"Do you want to meet after school and see what the library has to offer?" she asked, lifting her head, her eyes meeting his for a second before he dropped his gaze.

"Yeah." Sam couldn't decide where to look. "Good idea."

"Okay then." Leigh closed the book and bent over her notes, starting to write again.

Sam stared at the book in front of him, thoughts and feelings reeling in his head. He wasn't sure what to make of that. Had she sounded a bit nervous when she'd asked him? What did that mean? He slid a sideways glance at her, seeing only the fall of her hair, hiding her face, her hand moving fast as she wrote.

The assignment was due in four weeks. They had plenty of time, and it wasn't really difficult, just a look at the local history and a ten thousand word essay on the historical elements that had brought the town into being. Why did she want to work on it together? According to Ray, four guys had already asked Leigh to the prom, and had been turned down. He knew he should ask, every day he didn't increased the odds that someone else would and she'd accept.

The bell rang and he watched her leave, packing his books and notes into his bag slowly. Would this be his chance to ask her?

* * *

><p>The town library was in an old building, built in the Spanish style sometime in the nineteenth century, with a red terracotta tile roof and stuccoed exterior. The ceilings were high and the woodwork, all dark and polished, made it seem smaller than it was.<p>

Sam walked along the stacks, a list in his hand of the books the librarian had recommended. He found four of the five and carried them back to the table he and Leigh'd commandeered, setting them between their two chairs.

Leigh smiled at him, and he gave her a faltering smile back, sitting down and opening the first of the books. They had two hours to get the information that would get them started before the library closed, since neither had lived in town long enough to be eligible for a library card to borrow the books.

At five minutes before closing, Sam looked up, his hand cramped and sore from writing non-stop, his notebook filled with information. He leaned back and stretched, lifting his arms and flexing the muscles of his back, freezing when he glanced over to Leigh and saw her watching him. It was hot in the reading room and he'd shed his light jacket when they'd sat down, not noticing until now that he was wearing a tee shirt that was thin and worn from too many launderings. He straightened in his chair and gestured to the notes in front of him.

"Got all the bare bones of the town history,' he told her quickly. "How do you want to handle the essay?"

"Um, I thought we could probably take it from two viewpoints, and then interweave them?" She looked down at her own notes, and Sam noticed with surprise that a very faint flush was rising up her neck. He couldn't think of anything she could be embarrassed or uncomfortable about. "You know, I could handle the first settlers, and maybe you could take the explorers and prospectors?"

He nodded readily. That could work really well.

They gathered up their things as the librarian walked around the room, switching off the lights.

On the front steps, Leigh stopped. "We should do an outline, work out exactly what we're doing," she said, turning to him. "But my parents are out tonight, and they have a strict policy about home study when they're not there. What about your place?"

Sam opened his mouth to say that would be okay, then remembered his brother. He did not want Dean to meet Leigh. At all. _Ever_.

"Uh, yeah, it's kind of messy, and noisy at my place." He thought fast, looking at his watch. "What about the diner, off the esplanade? It's usually not too crowded and we could eat at the same time?"

She looked up at him, smiling slightly. "Sounds more like a date, Sam Winchester."

"Uh …" He blanked at the comment, unable to even decide if she were serious or joking.

Her smile widened at his dumbfounded expression. "That'd be fine. I need to go home first, let my parents know what I'm doing." She looked at her watch. "Can I meet you there in an hour?"

"Yeah, sure." He nodded and swallowed at the same time, resulting in a short coughing fit.

"I'll see you there."

He watched her walking away. _It wasn't a date_, he thought to himself, _not a real date. Just collaborating. Just, uh, two people, eating together … and talking … and …_

* * *

><p>"I didn't think it'd ever happen." Dean grinned at him. "A date, an actual date."<p>

"I've had lots of dates," Sam said, scowling at him. "And it's a study date, Dean. There's a big difference."

He'd showered and changed the minute he'd gotten back to the house, and that had grabbed his brother's interest enough that he begun the questioning as soon as Sam had emerged from the bedroom.

"It's a start, bro." Dean reached into the fridge for a beer and turned around, leaning against the counter, the expression in his eyes suggesting that he could think of a lot ways to milk this out for all it was worth.

"Are you taking one of the girls to the prom?" Sam blurted out suddenly, desperate for a diversion.

He watched his brother's brows draw together. "What prom?"

"The Junior Prom, it's in two weeks," Sam told him, relieved to see that had done the trick. He lifted his bag to the kitchen table and started to repack his books into it.

"Doubt it." Dean tipped the bottle up, swallowing a mouthful. "Not really my thing."

Sam nodded. It wasn't, actually. None of high school or its extracurricular activities had been Dean's thing. He hadn't been able to wait to get out of there.

"Why?"

"Oh, just a few of them asked me about you, if you were interested in them ... that kind of thing," Sam tossed off the information lightly, feeling generous in light of the fact the change in the topic had been successful. "They're, uh, running some kind of competition between them, trying to get you to take one of them."

"Huh."

Sam looked up at the thoughtful expression on Dean's face. "Changing your mind?"

His brother grinned. "Not really."

* * *

><p>The diner was almost empty, and he and Leigh spread out their work over the large booth in the corner, ordering burgers and shakes.<p>

Leigh had changed as well, and the light cotton button-through dress matched the colour of her eyes, bright against a pale golden tan and the deeper honey-gold of her hair. He'd spent the first half hour looking anywhere else but at her, trying to keep his mind on what they were there for.

They worked for an hour, and had roughed out the outline, deciding what were the most important aspects and what could be included as background, figuring out which of the town's personages they'd include and which would be discarded, and how each of them would handle their end.

Leigh chewed on the end of her pen, her eyes a little distant as she read through what they'd covered.

"I think we're good." Sam smiled, looking between his notes and her face. "It's a pretty full coverage of the important parts of the history, and the more whimsical."

"You mean the pirates?" Her eyes focussed on him again, dimples deepening.

"Well, yeah, it adds a bit of colour?" Sam defended the decision.

When he'd discovered that the cove to the north of the town had sheltered a number of pirate vessels in the early nineteenth century, he'd been filled with a small boy's delight in the thought. It was a lot more interesting than the copper mines up in the hills behind the coast.

"It's good," she reassured him, pushing her notes to one side. "It does add to the overall view."

She picked up the remains of her chocolate shake and sipped at it, saying "So, I thought we could get our first drafts done, then see where we're at?"

Watching her close her books, put the notes into her folder and stack them to the side, Sam packed up his books as well, feeling his heart sink a little that they'd finished so quickly. They hadn't discussed anything personal, and he was beginning to think now that they wouldn't.

"How'd you come to move here?" she asked him and he nearly jumped, the question had come so close on the heels of his thoughts.

"Uh, my dad is a freelance reporter," he said, the cover story coming out without needing thought. "He's doing a piece on the area."

"So you're not staying?"

"We'll be here for a while," he hedged, looking down at the table top. "He's pretty thorough."

It nearly made him laugh, a weird bubble of close-to-hysterical laughter, that is. He shoved the whole mess out of his head.

"What about you? What brought you here? Where were you before?"

"We moved here from Santa Fe," Leigh said, her gaze cutting away. "My mom's an artist, and my dad's a musician, and they decided they needed the inspiration of the sea."

"Wow."

She looked at him and smiled, only the smile didn't seem to have much humour in it, Sam thought.

"It's not that 'wow'," she told him. "We move all the time."

"Yeah," Sam said, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. "So do we."

The barely-hinted-at sadness only made him ache to know more about her, her life, her thoughts … her feelings about it all, but he wasn't sure it was the right time to ask. From the way she'd looked away before, he had the idea that she wasn't exactly thrilled with the life she had. It gave them something in common.

"So, have you asked anyone to the prom yet?"

He looked up, his heart giving a fast double beat as the question took him by surprise. "Uh, no."

She was leaning on her elbows, looking at him. "Too many choices?"

"No." He looked down at his bag. "No, I … uh …"

If this wasn't a perfect opportunity, he didn't know what was. _Just ask_, he thought. _What if she turned him down too?_ At least he'd have tried, he countered, and if he didn't ask at all, the result would be the same.

"Actually, I wanted …" His throat closed suddenly as he looked into her eyes. He watched her brows rise as she waited for him to finish, and he had to look away, unable to take the additional pressure. "To … um … ask …you."

The last word was barely audible and he cringed inwardly, his gaze dropping to the table.

"I'd love to go with you."

For a long moment, he didn't register the words since he hadn't been expecting them. He looked up, saw her smile, his heart hammering against his ribs so loudly that he thought she had to be able to hear it.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really." Her smile widened slightly, very close to a grin. "You sound surprised."

"I am." The words came out without thought. How did his brother do this every day without dropping dead of a heart attack, he wondered?

"Why?"

"I just thought, you know, you'd … uh, be … uh … I don't know," he finished lamely, not sure what he'd thought other than she wouldn't have been interested in going with him.

Her laugh was very soft. "You thought I'd go with one of the seniors? One of the jocks?"

He shrugged. He _had_ thought that, Ray had told him about the guys who'd asked her. "I don't know. I just didn't think you'd want to go with me."

"I like you, Sam." She leaned across the table, looking at him intently. "You're smart, and funny, you're quiet and courteous and … well, you're nice."

He felt heat rising up his neck, his ears burning, knowing that she could probably see the flush of colour. He wasn't sure that nice was what he wanted to be, exactly. It wasn't a bad thing, but he had the idea that none of the girls his brother went out with thought of Dean as 'nice'.

"Nice?" He saw something else in her eyes, something that he couldn't really identify. Something that told him that nice wasn't all she was seeing in him. "I guess I can live with nice."

The slight tension in her dissolved and she laughed. "Good."

His father and brother were heading down to Los Angeles tomorrow, picking up some stuff that Dad had ordered. The diner was okay as a place to work, but it was more distracting than a quiet room.

"Uh, tomorrow, my family's going to be out of town. Do you want to come over to my place and we can keep working on this? It'll be, um, quieter than here," he said, glancing around the room which had begun to fill up with more customers.

She nodded. "Yes, sure. If we can get most of it written down, I can use my dad's computer to do the drafts on the weekend."

Glancing at her watch, she started packing the books into her bag. "Speaking of which, I'd better get going."

They packed up and Sam paid the check, following her outside into the warm darkness of the night. The sky was clear, and they could just hear the surf, breaking quietly along the beach, the air filled with the smell of the sea and the night scents of the gardens that the town was famous for.

Leigh lived a few blocks north and west, and they turned together away from the beach, walking slowly. After a block, he felt her hand slip into his. His fingers closed around it and he glanced down at her, seeing her smile as she ducked her head.

Nothing could be more perfect than this, he decided, his breath escaping in a silent, contented sigh.

* * *

><p>"Sorry about the mess." Sam's gaze travelled fast around the living room, hoping that it was reasonably clean. Most of the time, he didn't really notice it, although he liked his own room to be organised, but now, he didn't want the girl behind him to think that he and his family were stereotypical males, incapable of cleaning.<p>

"It looks fine to me." Leigh looked around the room, the simple furniture was obviously a part of the rental, and despite the fact that the place was a little run-down, it wasn't all that bad.

"Do you want something to drink?" Sam turned to the kitchen, looking back over his shoulder at her.

"Uh, yeah, a soda or juice would be fine." She dropped her bag on the sofa and followed him.

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at his brother. Dean straightened up, looking past him as Leigh stopped behind him.

"I thought you went with Dad," Sam couldn't keep the dismay out of his voice.

Dean shrugged, his gaze flicking back to his brother then returning to the girl standing behind Sam. "He didn't want me to go. Thought I should stick and make sure you were okay."

He walked toward his younger brother, peering around him. Sam felt his stomach drop.

"Uh, Dean, this is Leigh." He turned slightly aside, glancing at her. "Leigh, my brother, Dean."

"Hey." The single word was rich with feeling and meaning. For someone who'd eschewed his education, Dean still managed to get across exactly what he meant in the bare minimum of words.

"Hi," Leigh said, the tone of her voice bright but no more than polite. Sam risked another glance at her. She was watching Dean approach with as little interest in her face as there had been in her voice.

"Where's Sammy been hiding you?" Dean kept his attention fixed on the girl in front of him, his expression frankly appreciative.

"Water would be okay, if you don't have soda, Sam," Leigh said, taking a small step closer to Sam and looking up at him. He nodded and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and getting out two bottles of soda, hearing his brother's murmuring behind him, but unable to make out what he was saying to Leigh. He knew what the gist of it would be, though. Closing the fridge, he turned around, feeling a thread of anger somewhere down in his gut.

Dean leaned against the doorframe, Leigh stood stiffly against the other side. She was looking at his brother with a cool haughtiness he'd never seen before.

"I'm sure you'll find some way to get over it," she said crisply.

Sam hid a grin at Dean's wide-eyed expression.

"Here." He handed the soda to her and cut in between them, his fingers curling lightly around her elbow as he steered her out and down the hallway to his room. He resisted the impulse to look back at his brother, hearing the gusty exhale behind him.

She turned to him as he closed the bedroom door behind them. "Your brother is quite a flirt."

He nodded, walking to his bed and dropping his bag on it. "Yeah, he never gives up."

"Does he do that with all the girls you bring around?"

He heard the sharpness in her voice and looked at her. "Pretty much."

"Humph." She sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't believe anyone would choose that … animal magnetism … over you, Sam."

He blinked. Was that it was with Dean? Animal magnetism? He could hear the thread of discomfort underlying her words and wondered how much that animal magnetism had affected her.

"Well, I guess most girls find it appealing."

Leigh didn't comment on that, looking around the bedroom instead. "My stuff's in the living room," she said, and he thought her discomfort had grown a little.

"I'll get it," he said, going to the door. He looked back at her, seeing her gaze fixed on the wall opposite, her expression unreadable. Was that a pass or a fail, he wondered?

* * *

><p>"Man, you've been holding out on me."<p>

Sam looked up as his older brother pushed the door wider and leaned back against the doorframe. Leigh had left an hour ago and Dean had, thankfully, been nowhere around when Sam'd seen her out.

"What do you mean?" He looked down at the book he was holding.

"That Leigh, man." Dean walked into the room, lifting the chair by the desk and turning it around to sit down, arms crossed over the back. "She is gorgeous."

"Thought you could get your own dates."

Dean laughed. "I can. But … wow … I could even consider something longer term with a girl like that."

Sam snorted. "Longer than a night, you mean?"

Dean tilted his head, his mouth tucking in at one corner, as he watched his little brother's attempt at deflection. "Don't tell me you're feeling it too, Sammy? I thought you didn't let girls affect you?"

"I don't." Sam got up abruptly, taking the armful of books and dumping them on the desk. He turned around, about to tell Dean that Leigh was actually his date for the prom, then stopped. He still wasn't sure that she'd actually been unmoved by Dean. Maybe he should give it more time, see if things changed.

"I was thinking of asking her to the prom," he said casually, watching his brother's face.

Dean's brows rose sharply. "Better not take too long thinking about it, little brother. A girl like that, she's going to be off the market in no time."

"You don't even know her." He felt a stinging disappointment in his brother. The really amazing things about Leigh were not in the way she looked, but the way she thought, the way she felt.

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly as he heard the edge in Sam's voice. "I know enough. She's smart, right? She wouldn't be here studying with you if she wasn't."

Sam turned away and walked out of the room, biting back the comment that came to him. If he really did want to see if Leigh was immune to his brother, he should let it play out without his brother knowing how things stood.

He had the feeling that while Dean might not have been deliberately trying to get the other girls, there was something about Leigh that had caught his attention, and he was going to try a lot harder for her, whether it hurt his little brother or not.

* * *

><p>John leaned back on the couch, the files in his hand momentarily forgotten as he watched his sons discreetly from under his brows. There was a palpable tension between the two of them. He'd noticed it when he'd gotten back from LA, and he thought it was getting stronger.<p>

He had a good idea of what the problem was. Sam had brought Leigh around to study after school that afternoon, and he'd watched Dean going all out to impress her, his manners suddenly improving, the flirting toned down, his attention fully on her whenever she'd looked at him. John had noticed Sam's reactions were a lot stronger with this girl than the others as well, watched his younger son becoming more assertive, and not above the occasional barbed comment at his brother's expense.

A little healthy competition between them wasn't a bad thing, it kept them sharp, kept them thinking of ways around problems. But an all-out feud was another matter. And he could see how much Sam cared this time. Leigh had gotten under his skin, and he would be hurt if Dean succeeded in derailing the fledgling romance.

"What's it to you if I ask her?" Dean stared at Sam belligerently. "All's fair in love and war, Sammy."

Sam muttered something under his breath, slamming the glass on to the counter and wrenching open the fridge door, rattling everything inside of it.

"What? Didn't quite catch that?"

"Dean." John stood up and walked to the kitchen. "Need you to come and listen to the truck engine for me."

Dean looked at his father, then back to his brother's hunched up shoulders. "You haven't put in a claim yet, Sammy."

"It's Sam!"

"Whatever."

* * *

><p>Dean followed John outside, and around the house to the side where they parked the cars.<p>

"Jump in, crank her over and give her some gas. There's a rattle I can't isolate just after starting." John leaned in and popped the hood and Dean got into the truck and started the engine when his father was leaning over the engine bay. They both listened, hearing the faint rattle as the diesel idled.

Dean switched the engine off and came around to the bay, standing beside his father and looking in. Somewhere to the right of the driver, he'd thought when he'd heard it.

"What's going on with you and Sam?"

The question took him by surprise. He leaned across the engine and felt the wing nut holding the filter in. It was tight.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit, Dean." John walked around to the front of the engine, pushing and shaking each of the components, looking for which one was a little loose. "You trying to steal his girl?"

"She's not his girl." Dean crouched down, looking under the engine. He crawled under the bay and lay on his back, looking up at the innards of the machine.

"He likes her. You know he does," John pointed out, shifting his position to watch his son's face. "Not enough girls around for you, you gotta try and take his?"

Dean scowled. "It's not like that."

"Seems like that to me."

Above him, he felt the weight of the truck cant as his father leaned on the edge of the bay, his voice deepening. "I'd hate to think I raised you to be like this, Dean, trying to take something from Sammy that's important to him, just because you can."

Dean was silent for a moment.

"Is it my fault if she likes me better?" he asked finally.

"Does she?"

Dean stared at the oil pan above him. "I don't know."

* * *

><p>Sitting in the Impala outside of the school, Dean waited for the bell, not really sure what he was doing there. He didn't know, exactly, what so important about this girl. She was beautiful, but not really his type, he knew that. She would want a whole lot more than just making out, having fun … he'd always run a mile from girls like that before, unwilling, unable, to give them what they were looking for.<p>

Leigh was different. In some way.

Was it because of Sammy? Because if it was, then he was being a douche and he really should just back off and leave them alone. She was way more suited to his brother anyway. But he'd felt her interest … hidden down deep, but still there. And that was more tantalizing, more of a challenge, than the blatant attraction of the other girls. He could get any of them, any time, anywhere.

The bell rang, interrupting his thoughts, and he watched the rush of students down the front steps and across the grounds. He saw her coming out, and got out of the car, walking unhurriedly to the gate, leaning against the stone pillar as she walked toward him. He saw her eyes widen slightly as she noticed him, and she slowed down, looking around, presumably for his little brother, who was nowhere in sight. He watched as she straightened slightly, walking over to him.

"Hi." She looked at him, her face expressionless. "Are you giving Sam a ride today?"

He shook his head. "No. I wanted to talk to you, if you've got a minute." He glanced back at the car. "Thought I could give you a ride home, talk on the way?"

"I'm …" she hesitated, looking past him at the car. "Alright."

They turned and walked to the car, and he held the door for her, closing it and walking around to the other side, his heart beating uncomfortably fast as he slid in between the wheel, and started the engine.

By the front doors, Sam stood at the top of the steps, watching Leigh get into the car with his brother. He felt as if he'd been punched, frozen in place despite the students complaining around him as they pushed past his unmoving frame.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" She looked straight ahead, through the windshield, her voice cool.

"Uh …" Now that it came down to it, he wasn't sure he knew what he'd wanted to ask. He wasn't sure why he was doing this. Competition with his brother? Something about the girl? He didn't know. It wasn't the first time he and Sam had been after the same girl. Was this payback for the last time? That had started out just as fun, at least on his part, teasing his brother, just a joke at first, and then had gotten a lot more serious, for both of them.

"I wanted to ask if you'd go to the prom with me?" he blurted it out, not looking at her.

He heard her exhale, the sound signifying both annoyance and frustration.

"Sam already asked me. And I accepted." She turned to him, hunching a little against the passenger door. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked, trying to buy some time to think of an answer.

"You know what. Why are you trying to steal all of the girls your brother is interested in?"

He risked a swift glance at her, looking away as he saw the frown. "That's not – I'm not."

"Yeah, you are." She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at his profile. "Sienna, Audrey, Kirsten … now me. Are you so insecure that you need to prove yourself by making your brother feel like crap, by taking whatever it is he wants?"

He stared at the road ahead, making the turns automatically. Sammy hadn't said that those girls were there with him, he thought wildly. He hadn't _deliberately_ tried to get their attention – they'd damned near thrown themselves at him.

"No idea what you're talking about," he said finally.

"Yeah, you do." She looked away, seeing her house a block down the road. "Sam's a great guy. He deserves a brother who has his back, not one that tries to undermine him."

She leaned down and picked up her bag. "Just stop here."

He pulled over, a mix of anger and guilt and shame rising in him. Looking at her as she opened the door, he said, "It's not my fault if they like me better than him, you know."

She leaned back inside, her eyes steady on his. "No. But you can tell them that you're not interested in your brother's girls. You can ignore them when they come on to you. You can not go all out trying to get their attention and asking them out."

She shut the door and started walking.

Dean watched her go. She was right, he thought. He could do all of those things. He'd never bothered before. Never even thought about it before. He didn't want to look at why he hadn't done those things. He had a feeling that would make him feel worse than he did right now. A lot worse.

* * *

><p>He pulled into the driveway and drove around the side of the house, killing the engine and getting out.<p>

Sammy was home. Dean looked at the closed door of his bedroom for a moment, then knocked.

"Go away."

He opened it, pushing it wide and looking at his brother, sitting hunched over on the side of the bed, his gaze on the floor.

"Why didn't you tell me you already asked her to the dance?" he asked, leaning back against the doorjamb.

Sam's gaze snapped around to him and he realised he'd more or less admitted to asking her himself.

"Because it wasn't your business." Sam looked back at the floor. "You shouldn't have been interested in her anyway."

"I know."

His little brother looked up at the quiet resignation in his voice. "You mean that?"

"Yeah." Dean looked away, lifting a hand in a vague gesture. "I'm, uh … I didn't do it to hurt you, Sammy."

"Why'd you pick up Leigh this afternoon?"

Dean shrugged. "I wanted to talk to her. I asked her. She told me you'd already asked and she accepted." He looked at his brother. "She also told me that I was a douche for hitting on your girls."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, well, you are," he said. "But I knew you would."

"Why'd you bring them here then?"

"I wanted to see which of them wanted to go out with me, and which would prefer you." He sighed. "After Arizona, I wanted to make sure that I didn't go out with girls who were going to fall for you after five minutes."

Dean frowned. He remembered Arizona, he hadn't thought it was such a big deal to his brother. Just a dinky high school dance. "So it was a test?"

"Kind of." Sam stood up, wandering over to the desk and looking down at the notes that were still spread over it.

"And with Leigh? Who were you testing? Her or me?" Dean stared at him.

"Both of you, I guess. I didn't think you were doing it deliberately, thought it was just … like a reflex. Until Leigh." Sam shrugged, looked at him. "She passed. You failed."

Dean dropped his gaze. He deserved that. "She likes you, Sam."

"Yeah." Sam walked back to the bed and sat down again. "Doesn't matter. Dad called. We're heading out in two days. New case."

Dean's head snapped up. "I'll tell him we can't go. It'll just be a couple of days."

Sam shook his head. "I already tried that. He said it couldn't wait. He understood how I felt and blah blah blah. Doesn't matter. It's okay."

Dean looked at him, seeing his brother's disappointment under the casual façade. The trouble was, for Sammy, it did matter. It mattered a lot.

* * *

><p>"So you're going?" Leigh turned her head to look at his profile. They were sitting together in between the outcroppings of rock that littered the southern end of the cove, protected from the wind.<p>

"Yeah. Tonight." He glanced at her. "I'm sorry."

She smiled at him. "It's not your fault. Can't control what your family does."

He heard the double meaning in her words and smiled back, ruefully. "No."

"Did you talk to your brother, about everything that happened?"

"A bit, yeah."

"He apologise?"

Sam laughed. "As much as he could."

"I guess that's something." She shifted closer to him and he put his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah. It's something." He didn't think Dean would change, but it was a nice idea.

"Sam."

He looked down at her. She lifted her hand to his face, her fingertips running down his cheek lightly and leaned back against his arm, pulling them both down to the sand.

"Not going to have prom night, and you're going tonight. So …"

"So …?" He looked at her, and she leaned toward him, kissing him lightly.

"Oh."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his eyelids closing as he tasted the salt on her lips, felt her arms slide under his jacket to hold him.

* * *

><p><strong>END<strong>


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